


Wreaths of Deception

by Mythonik



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Alternate Universe - SCP Foundation, Angst, Attempted Murder, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Murder, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Light-Hearted, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-07 21:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11632671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythonik/pseuds/Mythonik
Summary: Secure, Contain, Protect.These were the principles on which their Foundation was built upon - principles Security Director Robert Small and the personnel of Site Alias: Maple Bay were determined to upkeep. Whether the cryptic forces native to the sleepy town accepted them or not was another matter altogether.The introduction of three new anomalies may prove to be an alteration on the pre-established order, but surrender has never been an option, anyway.- - - - - -Interconnected drabbles of life in Site-96 (Humanoid Containment) and its staff/anomalies.





	1. Why Me?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a big fan of horror. I'm a big fan of Dream Daddy. It was only a matter of time. Also, the MC's name is James, but you can replace it with your own Dadsona's name. Common terms that will mostly come up will also be down in the end notes for easy and quick clarification!
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

He was so not ready for this. 

_So._

_Not._

_Ready._

James felt a hard shudder crawl its way down his spine, prickling over his skin and setting every hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He had been working on this Site for at least three months now, four come Saturday of this week, as a containment specialist, meaning it was his job to assist in directly designing the appropriate prison cells per the requirements their respective inhabitant needed; and yet despite seeing strange creatures or artifacts not many could claim they had on a day-to-day basis, James _still_ shied away from the resounding echoes every one of his footfalls made in the cavernous, stale corridors the same way he had on his first day post-transfer.

“C’mon, you got this, James,” he muttered under his breath, shaking the stiffness from his arms and rolling his head back, attempting to ease the muscle tension brought on by having to work in close distance to a potentially dangerous aberration never failed to drag in with itself.

He only succeeded in making it worse.

Before he could find the nearest Euclid occupied area and fling himself at the hopefully hostile anomaly within, the standard-issued phone in his pocket began to vibrate. First it was a simple twitch, swiftly followed by another not even two seconds later, and before James knew it the damn thing was tickling his leg with how close in proximity the vibrations were to the last.

The dark haired man fished out the phone and tapped it open, feet slowly dragging to a halt as he read the long string of messages now filling his inbox.

 

**Keter Van Helsing**

_hey_

_hey_

_hey_

_hey_

_heyheyhey_

_james_

_james answer me_

_I’ll send 3099 if you dont_

_jaaaaaaaaaaames_

 

Stifled giggles tried to wrestle their way out of his chest, but he managed to successfully swallow them with his superior control skills back into the depths of his lungs. Laughing wasn't really something someone would ever want to do when travelling alone through a dimly lit hallway. Especially if that hallway belonged to Foundation property. You never knew what sort of strange happenings could suddenly occur to you whilst in there.

He swiftly pushed the borderline conspiratorial thoughts away and shook his head to clear it. James quickly typed back his response in record time before Robert could finish writing whatever those three floating dots suggested him to be.

 

**_What is it Robert?_ **

 

He hadn't even had time to glance away from his phone screen for a split second before it vibrated once again on his palm. 

 

**Keter Van Helsing**

_guess who's getting up close and personal with 2541_

_hint_

_it's you_

_get your ass over here to delta seven_

_that's an order from your security director_

 

Had James been another man, he would have immediately listened to his technically superior and marched right back the way he had come from. Unfortunately, James was not another man, so he heaved a heavy sigh and shoved the standard black phone back into its rightful pocket. 

Delta Seven was halfway across Site-96.

James was currently in Theta Nine having been making his way to Theta Eleven.

He would have to walk the arduous trek back through countless hallways and the unsettling containment rooms deemed Safe, all the while feeling the glare of the overhead cameras as they gently whirred in their stations to follow him, recording his every move and breath with eagle like precision.

His knees were already wailing in protest at just the thought of it.

* * *

 

“Look who finally decided to show up to the party! I was already thinking Rob had sent 3099 after you.”

James didn't bother trying to hide his grimace from the crowing woman, making his way into the bustling section and coming to a stop behind her swivel chair. The Control Rooms were always so damn stifling no matter what time of the day it was, with all their webbed computer terminals and TV screens displaying the latest anomaly overview data to classify and file away.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say Mary,” James huffed, draping his crossed arms over the back of the leather chair and leaning against it. “Robert definitely knows how to call a man the right way.”

Mary only snorted. Polished fingernails clacked against the hard plastic of her keyboard, the terminals before her flicking through multiple different screens before finally settling into one displaying a simple looking number code. She stood from her spot and waved for James to take a seat on her chair before the computer.

As James sat down and rolled forward to squint at the rough abstract somebody had slapped onto the anomaly's file, Mary inspected her nails with a boring interest that belied their buzzing surroundings. “This one's not so interesting,” she sighed, tone slightly disappointed as if she had just been let down by the discovery. “Even if it is classified Euclid.”

“Anomaly triggers an immediate release of endorphins… Anomaly appears distressed by social interaction… are you sure this constitutes for Euclid?” James finally blurted. His brows were furrowed in confusion and a small frown tugged at his almost pouting lips -- he genuinely couldn't believe this aberration was even being considered for the Euclid label, much less could he believe that it had already been given it. It _appeared_ to be harmless from what he was reading here.

Mary looked up with a razor sharp smile gracing her lips, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her hand. “It thinks for itself, Jimmy dear,” she cooed, teasing the now embarrassed, blushing man, “that’s why it's a very disappointing Euclid.”

“And that's where you come in.”

James swiveled around on the rolling chair so suddenly that he almost succeeded in bowling himself over. Mary downright snorted at the rookie's antics and turned on her heel in a much less dramatic fashion.

“W-what do you mean 'that’s where I come in?!”

The gruff Security Director shrugged nonchalantly. “You know,” he drawled, shoving a hand into his pocket and pulling free a bright yellow card. Robert tossed it over to James, who just barely managed to catch it. “You're going in with some Class D’s and getting the measurement shit ready for blueprinting.”

“Wait, what--”

“Also, hold onto that card real tight. Level 2 clearance ain't something you want to lose around the D’s."

James’ mouth flopped open and closed like a fish out of water, and before he could choke out even the smallest squeak, Robert grinned and shooed him out of the Control Room, Mary laughing loudly beside him. Somehow, by some unknown force of nature the Foundation would no doubt one day find, her guffaws were drowned by the other chattering techs and the hissing hydraulics of the sliding door closing on his face.

The brunette stood before the door and stared blankly at the equally featureless panel for a few long seconds. His gaze slowly flitted down to read the bold print seared into the smooth finish of his new card, and James had never felt more ready to lock himself with their only resident Keter class than he did now.

 

**James Vela**

**Containment Specialist**

**(2/ 2541-3012-909)**

 

Three.

Three different anomalies under his file. Most specialists never got over one, much less two! Either that unidentified force was out to get just him, or the Site Overseer was really that short staffed that they needed multiple abberations under one name.

James firmly believed in the former choice.

 

* * *

 


	2. The Keter and the Director

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this week, on _"My Boyfriend is a Fucking Cryptid..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be an angst-y one, but it sort of delved into some fluff at some point. I've been thinking about accepting requests for this AU, so please let me know if anyone is interested in sending one!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

 

**Item #:** SCP-909

**Object Class:** Keter

**Special Containment Procedures:**

  * 3 m x 3 m x 3 m acrylic glass cell (all material - excluding the titanium bottom and peripheral braces - is to be as clear as possible) inside a white walled room with mounted peripheral cameras
  * Titanium floor must have an electronically controlled hatch handled by Level 2 personnel that opens into an underground concrete cell
  * Underground concrete cell walls infused with ingrained monitor cameras and microphones. Four (4) high powered floodlight ceiling bulbs must automatically turn on upon the hatch's opening
  * Acrylic glass cell must be kept within a 5 m x 5 m x 5 m room with 0.5 m of lead lining concrete walls at ground level
  * Constant monitoring from the Omega Control Room must have personnel assigned to the entity in Site-96 shift every eight (8) hours; post shift includes a mandatory five (5) day long seclusion from the area - personnel must spend these days working under other lower class Anomaly groups or as assistants to any researcher or doctor to discard all possible effects and aftershocks of Aberration 909’s _Dream Radiation_ (Refer to Doc. 29-DR-909)
  * Stationary flood lights located 360° around the acrylic cell
  * No objects are to be placed within the cell nor is anybody or anything to cross the established safe-line behind the floodlights
  * Maintenance is to be done only after a three hour period post-transfer of the anomaly into the underground cell every three weeks to minimize Radiation Poisoning to containment specialists
  * No less than five (5) Class D subjects are to enter 909’s containment room to check the cell braces for any sulfuric build up from SCP-909 or scratches to the plexiglass
  * Floodlight bulbs are to be replaced with every maintenance by Specialists only; outlets are to be tested with a variety of multimeters to ensure their level of functionality
  * Backup generator system must be functional and in primal condition; any abnormalities - however slight - or malfunctions are to be immediately reported to the Site Director



Thorough background examination and explicit clearance from ~~either the Site Director or~~ the Security Director are prerequisites prior to being allowed entry into the organism's containment room. Research personnel are to be escorted inside by six (6) armed security wearing ear guards and tinted visors. SCP-909 is to never be released from containment unless expressed authorization is given by on-site Directors, and in the event of a Containment Breach, military guards are to be mobilized immediately to secure its position. Should the anomaly ever need to be removed from containment, all operations in Site-96 must cease and site-wide security must be engaged into ARCON 4.

Fifteen (15) milliliters of acetylcholine must be administered to SCP-909 via intravenous fluids by Security Director Robert Small. Following sedation, the organism is to be blindfolded with a lead brace, gagged using a lead lined leather muzzle, and shackled with iron manacles around its hands. Four (4) Class D personnel are to escort SCP-909 with iron chains connected to its muzzle with two (2) armed guards overseeing the transit.

**Description:** SCP-909 is humanoid in appearance, standing at 1.8 m and weighing approximately 68 kg. ~~First impression of the anomaly is that of a regular human male.~~  Projection of SCP-909 appears to be that of a Caucasian male with short blond hair, luminescent blue irises, and prominent bags on the lower eyelids. The organism lacks any visible pupils, but analysis have deemed the pink spots on its eyes to serve the same physiological function as a human pupil. Prominent canines on both jaws have been observed on the entity, but scans have yet to be deemed conclusive for what physiological function SCP-909 utilizes them for. ~~It appears to dress in a clerical robe and white collar.~~ The anomaly appears to change itself at will when confronted by a variety of subjects, even when confronted simultaneously. Religious subjects have been reported to witness the clerical cassock and white collar combination in its presence while non-religious subjects report it wearing a pink polo shirt, a light blue sweater wrapped around its shoulders, and khaki trousers. No observable footwear has ever been noted.

SCP-909 was originally discovered at an underground red light district inside ██████, Italy by local criminal organisations. Established field agents responded to an unauthorized quarantine of Sector **[DATA REDACTED]** following a suspected outbreak of **[DATA EXPUNGED]**. Mobile Task Force Eta-10 mobilized after field agents reported visual cognitohazards; before Commander ██████ reached the location, the Federal Bureau of Investigation - American federal law enforcement - seized and transferred the anomaly to their jurisdiction. (Refer to Addendum A-2.)

~~SCP-909 is hostile upon interaction.~~ SCP-909 is docile upon observing any subjects or researchers who enter its containment cells. Although it does not speak unless spoken to, it expresses a keen understanding of human languages (English, Spanish, Latin, Italian, French, and German have been observed. Further linguistic studies pending.)

Direct visual and auditory interaction results in subjects experiencing an immediate nervous release of melatonin hormones. Indirect interaction stimulates SCP-909 into engaging the subject(s) in conversation. The latter subjects are lured over the safe-line whilst under the anomaly's cognitohazardous effects after three minutes of prolonged interaction. Subjects experience a melatonin hormone burst and become catatonic when in close proximity to the acrylic cell - it should be noted that some subjects have a propensity to faint (Correlation of such events have yet to be deemed conclusive). If not removed fast enough, SCP-909 has been reported to displace the molecular composition of the affected subjects (officially referred to as SCP-909-A) into its cell where they are then consumed. The Foundation has yet to learn if this molecular displacement is only manipulatable on SCP-909-A or on any subject who enters the anomaly's containment. (See transcript of AUDIO LOG-17.)

Further research on the full extent of SCP-909's telepathic and mental projection properties are still pending.

SCP-909’s containment should always be monitored via multi-angular cameras. Should any abnormal behavior be observed, Doctor ██████ must be notified immediately.

 

….

 

Whisky just didn't cut it anymore.

Robert knocked back the amber liquid, relishing in the soothing warmth that spread through his system as the fire burned its way down his throat. His head rested back against his rolling chair, eyes staring blankly at his private office's equally blank ceiling before he squinted them shut. A tattooed hand came up to harshly rub the lingering tiredness out of them as the other snapped the manila folder atop his desk shut, obscuring the containment report he had been reading for the umpteenth time between its creamy traps.

He hauled - or more like stumbled - his way onto his feet and swiped the folder off the smooth wooden surface. Making the trek to one of his many his filing cabinets took longer than it should have, with Robert stretching what soreness he could from his shoulders and groaning when a good few pops eased the tension in them some.

The swift hiss of the cabinet opening barely registered in his mind as he slipped the moderately thick file into its appropriate spot between 'KETER’ and 'DIRECTOR ONLY.’ Not the best location for the safekeeping of such important documents, per se, but it is not like anyone would be suicidal enough to break into his office.

His reputation around the Foundation kind of had that aspect taken care of.

And if that was not enough to deter any wise guy rookies, than one vague threat from their Security Director involving their resident Keter would be enough to nip that bud of curiosity before it even breathed bitter air.

_Speaking of which…_

Robert carded his fingers through salt and pepper hair and pulled his standardized phone from his pocket. The time read 12:57AM, meaning most the day shift crew should be long gone by now with the skeleton crew finishing up the last touches needed for that night's surveillance. He scrolled through his short list of messages, cracking a small smile when he skimmed over the last sent text on display on some of them, and finally found the one he was looking for.

 

**Bloody Mary**

**_hey_ **

**_you in the control room?_ **

 

He was already halfway through the barren hallway on his way to the elevator when the phone dinged.

 

**Bloody Mary**

_sup loser_

_yeah i’m here_

_need me to kick the nerds in omega out?_

 

Robert jabbed the faded button for the ground level sectors before leaning back against the cool metal wall behind him. The doors slid shut with a swift swish and the elevator began its smooth descent as he typed back.

 

**Bloody Mary**

**_wingman of the year mary_ **

**_or wingwoman? winggal? the fuck knows_ **

**_remind me to buy the drinks next time_ **

_you bet your ass i will_

_you've got three hours max, smalls_

 

* * *

 

SCP-909 hummed an age-old, melodious little tune to himself, wandering the confines of his acrylic cage and staring into the non-visible cameras perched on every corner of the room with unblinking blue eyes. There would be a new transfer specialist coming into his containment area on the next scheduled maintenance, and he had yet to settle on whether he should encrust more of the rotten sulfuric crust to the stainless titanium braces or simply render the electronic hatch to the underground cell on the floor outright useless.

Usually he was not wont to do such miscellaneous things, as that would only mean he would have to spend an indefinite amount of time in the underground cell until they fixed the short-circuited hatch back again, but the thought of a fresh new face to entertain himself with merited the extra nuisances the anomaly could potentially cause, in his opinion. It was not as if the Foundation cared much for the comfort of their contained anomalies, for they were not a hotel catering to their unwilling residents demands. This facility was simply nothing more than an elaborate prison meant to provide the most basic of necessities to its permanent inhabitants without the option of comfort. Established protocols left SCP-909 with little to do with the nigh infinite amount of free time the wraith had on his metaphorical and literal claws. 

Left to his own devices more often than not, the dream demon was forced to find a way to curb his incessant boredom lest he infect every sapient being within a five mile radius with Radiation Poisoning.

Possible scenarios and their respective consequences flickered rapidly by the blond's mind, each receiving but a second of brief attention before making way for the next; so engrossed was he in his silent debate that he failed to acknowledge the pneumatic hiss of hydraulics coming from behind in the general area of the room's entrance.

“Thinking about something I should know about?”

The Keter admittedly flinched in surprise, concentration slipping and resulting in a loss of solid consistency from his torso down to his legs. Plumes of black mist boiled in the stagnant air of the cell as he quickly turned, inky wisps slithering underneath him like writhing snakes with the movement. A sheepish yet sly grin tugged at too-pale lips, revealing a set of prominent canines.

“No,” he laughed, slender fingers fiddling with the cuffs of his cassock in a way that could easily be interpreted as mischievous, “nothing you should concern yourself with, Rob.”

The man outside the glass cage snorted and quirked an incredulous brow (either at the nickname or his rebuttal, he supposed), stepping past the stationary floodlights and shooting a pointed look from them to the anomaly. The demon caught onto the subtle hint and lazily waved his hand in their general direction; the glaringly white bulbs sputtered once, twice, thrice, before promptly flickering off.

Robert stopped a good three feet away from the glass cage and settled himself down on the floor before it now that the too-white light was not stabbing at his retinas, groaning under his breath when his knees creaked their soreness back at him. He had been sitting on that damned office chair and pouring over the Containment File all afternoon like a dumbass, and this is where actually working for once got him. One final sigh snuck past parted lips once he finally found a comfortable enough position, and when he looked back up, he noticed the blond had mimicked his stance opposite of the reinforced glass wall, albeit sitting much more close to the panels to where his reformed knees grazed the transparent surface. Smoking tendrils of black bled upwards from his shoulders in thin rivulets, but apart from that, the anomaly still manged to project the facade of a normal human caught inside a glass cage - a thought that sent a small shiver up Robert's spine.

“You look suspicious as fuck, Joseph,” the grey-streaked brunette pointed out, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a half full flask from an inside pocket. Nobody in the night shift really cared that he was wearing his trusted leather jacket, since they were more busy with keeping themselves awake long enough to watch the more mischievous-but-still-lower-level anomalies like hawks; a fact he was rather thankful for, truth be told, because then he would not be able to sneak in a few sips from the very same flask on his hand whenever he felt ready to smash his head against a wall from mind numbing frustration.

Speaking of which, Robert easily slotted the container through the manual feeding panel on the glass, where Joseph graciously accepted it, cold fingers brushing his warm ones and lingering for a few moments before pulling away.

“Fine, you caught me,” the blond chuckled, deftly twisting the metallic cap off and taking a small swing. He cleared his throat from the harsh aftereffects of the whisky and handed the flask back to its respective owner. He had no need for physical food or water - other than what came from the corpses he consumed when the technically sacrificial Class D subjects entered his cell - as he had no actual human organs which to speak of, but indulging in certain vices like this one from time to time never hurt anybody.

Especially not him.

“I have been thinking about disabling the hatch,” he confessed readily, light blues alight with coiling mirth, “just to mess around with the new specialist, you know?”

Robert barked a harsh laugh, the resounding echo bouncing off the empty walls and back at him in a distorted mess of overlapping wavelengths. He did not ask Joseph how he knew about the new Containment Specialist's being on-site at all.

“Don't be an ass, you shit. The guy's still jittery around here and you'll end up scarring him for life with your damn illusions. Besides, the Site Director won't be all too happy with you messing up the equipment.” A sip. "You're too goddamn expensive for his tastes."

There it was again: the elusive Site Director whose name Joseph had yet to learn despite being in the same radial area as them.

His frustrations must have clearly shown in the way an ugly grimace twisted his features, for Robert shot him an irritatingly smug smirk and chuckled knowingly.

“Still mad you can't read my mind, pretty?” He drawled, knocking back yet another gulp from the flask and relishing in the way Joseph downright snarled at him, the bright pink of his pupils flashing vividly in barely restrained ire.

Joseph's animalistic growl clawed its way out from the back of his throat as glaring eyes flicked down at the hand resting leisurely over the Security Director's lap; or more specifically, they homed in on the branching, circular tattoo inked upon the darker flesh there that mocked him every time he so much as glanced at it.

The demon's whole existence was based upon the fact that he _knew_ things most creatures - either aberration or human - _did not,_ so it was easy to deduce that the anomaly prided himself in _knowing._ He found satisfaction in knowing about every little detail that was currently occurring around this forsaken Site, limitations in the form of heavy lead be damned, and the best way of doing so involved entrenching his presence deep into each of the personnel's minds here without their explicit awareness of it and become privy to their very own private thoughts and memories.

 

Joseph _knew_ the guard two floors up was debating whether to abandon his post or not for the sake of taking a piss, or if he should use the potted plant nearby as his new urinal.

 

Joseph _knew_ the Main Control Room’s linguistics specialist four floors away was thinking about whether she should binge drink in honor of her shit life after her shift was through and suffer the consequences of a killer hangover tomorrow or not.

 

But Joseph _did not know_ what Robert was thinking about three feet away from him, and all because that thrice damned sigil engraved onto his hand denied him access into the depths of the human's mind and all those enticing secrets the demon would simply love to have in his possesion.

 

“Of course not,” the blond crooned, tone borderline biting and sarcastic, batting thick eyelashes at the other and laughing internally in sweet triumph when a faint blush spread across Robert's cheeks. “I’m only mildly disappointed that I can't pay a visit to our lovely Site Director’s _dreams._ I'm sure I could make it _worth their while_.”

The Security Director scowled deeply in turn and stared right back at the caged monster. This was their only Keter, their most dangerous aberration up to date, the one who had been forcibly transferred into their jurisdiction after Mobile Task Force Iota-10 had ran an intervention against Agent Saul Graves from the Federal Bureau of Investigation following his unorthodox methods of interrogation that not even the Foundation would approve.

This was the arguably priceless jewel of the crown of Site-96, the one with the ability to subjugate them all with false smiles and whispered promises into the unsafe refuge of their own minds, the one who could bend both reality and the dreamscape to his every whim should he so wish to; yet here he also was, sitting pretty in a glass cage deep within the bowels of the Foundation and pretending to be their willing prisoner in a barren room.

The sheer magnitude of this demon's prowess never failed to stir a deep feeling of begrudging awe in Robert, no matter how long it had been since Joseph had first confessed to him his true intentions: he merely wished for a place where he could exist in this universal plane as himself rather than pretend to be human for the general populace of the outside world. Something the disgruntled brunette could sympathize with to some level of degree, no matter how strange that sounded, if he were being truthful to himself - something that had actually piqued the pair's interest in the other and assisted in those awkward conversations where they stopped being Security Director and SCP-909 and simply _were._  

Months following post-transfer from the nondescript FBI base were not the easiest, now that Robert thought about it, neither for the Foundation or for the wraith himself, but somehow the unlikely duo had managed to pull through the most grueling parts, toughening out the residual fallout that still plagued Site-96.

“Yeah, well,” finally grumbled Robert in return, trying and failing to will away the cursed heat from his face, “you aren't gonna be visiting anyone's dreams if I have a say in it.”

Joseph's lilting laugh on the single “Jealous?~” he cooed had Robert choking and sputtering on the last bit of whisky, embarrassingly enough.

And if he barked a full laugh together with the playfully smug Keter, then nobody but them and the frozen, non-recording cameras were there to witness it.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Euclid:** Anomalies insufficiently understood/unpredictable; any anomaly that exhibits sentience, sapience, or autonomy is automatically classified as this.  
>  **Keter:** Anomalies that pose a serious threat to both Foundation personnel and the rest of humankind should they breach containment.  
>  **Class D:** Expendable personnel who handle/interact with extremely hazardous anomalies; not allowed to interact with Class A or B personnel.  
>  **Class C:** Direct access to most anomalies - either hostile or not.  
>  **Class B:** Essential members to Foundation Site operations. Limited access to anomalies who are deemed approachable after heavy observation.  
>  **Researcher:** Scientists or doctors with a goal to further understand unexplained anomalies.  
>  **Site Director:** Overseer of local Foundation and highest authority on site.
> 
> Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
